An Inn in Bree
by Warden of Tol Eressea
Summary: A small inn in Bree helped bring two very different people together. Tales that took place before the outbreak of the War of the Ring.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Please review if you can and let me know how it is. Many thanks!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings nor any of its characters.

 **I : The Frozen Marches**

Amid the charred remains of the farmhouse, a hooded figure knelt. The smoke had all but died away and it was only due to his keen sense of smell that he found the place at all. What used to be a prosperous farm was now reduced to a pile of burned wood and ash. Some of the horses and cattle had escaped the danger and were now scattered across the ruined fields, picking through the snow to find any form of grass they could chew on. The owners of the farm were not so lucky. Anarath grimly picked through the wreckage, his face hard. Virtually everything was either looted or destroyed. The orcs had been very thorough. He had come too late.

He got back slowly to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. The horses and cattle would have to come with him. He didn't want to leave them for the orcs to find and he knew people who would be extremely grateful for the livestock, especially in the winter when food was scarce. For a moment, he felt a slight twinge of guilt at the fact of stripping the slain family of their livestock before he crushed it again. This was a hard time in an even harsher land. He had to put those who were living first. Night was fast approaching and the snow was already falling hard. Anarath glanced up and saw the ominous sky, heavy with clouds. A storm was brewing. He hesitated, debating his options. He chaffed to be away to the relative safety of his small camp. The burning was less than a day old and who knew what still lurked in the shadows. But he couldn't just leave the bodies out for the wolves. Though the times may be hard, he couldn't let his own humanity slip away as was often the case. They deserved a proper burial at least. And so, with his mind set, he picked up a strewn shovel nearby and set about at his new task.

* * *

The North Downs is a perilous place, especially in January during the dead of winter. From the northwest blew in the frozen winds of the Ice Bay of Forochel. From the north and northeast came the icy chills of Angmar, a mixture of cold, snow, and terror. A cold that gripped not only the sinews of mankind but their hearts and souls. And when the days shorten and the sun goes to sleep early, evil things begin to emerge. Fell voices that seem to haunt the air. Black hounds and wargs with bloodshot eyes to whom the weather bothers not at all. Wights and other like creatures from a bygone age when the world was young.

But the most immediate threats were the roaming orc bands. They preyed on isolated farmsteads and solitary travelers, growing ever bolder as winter set in and the resistance of Men crumbled. As Anarath snuggled deeper into his blankets, he thought back to the farm he had encountered earlier that day. The North Downs was a depopulated region of the world. The few settlements that dotted the land were scattered, hidden, and small. Most of its former inhabitants had long migrated south to Bree-land and beyond. The ones who stayed knew there was a high price to pay. The nearest village, or hamlet more accurately, had been six leagues away from the burning. Too often did situations like this occur: families who used isolation as a shield. But even the most improbable chance of stumbling upon them still meant certain destruction should it surface. Anarath gave a heavy sigh and turned fitfully, trying to shake off the gnawing cold. The North Downs consisted of a vast expanse of land, but he was only one man. One young man. He just turned thirty last fall, barely an adult by the standards of his people.

Times like these always instilled a sense of hopelessness in Anarath. But he quenched it as best he could, lest it consume him. Rangers were lonely folk, hunters of the Enemy. The wild was their home and the elements were their companions. And in a forsaken place such as the North Downs, hopelessness was their greatest enemy.

It was not always so. In the days of the North Kingdom, a man could walk down the Greenway end to end without any fear in the world. Those were the golden ages, when Arnor still existed and the Sceptre held by a king. But the years passed and Arnor fell into decline until at last the Witch-King of Angmar delivered the final blow. A thousand years had passed since then. Its monuments had long turned to rubble and only mounds on the grassy hills remained. But hope was ever present. And that's what kept Anarath going. Every day that passed brought them closer to what may come. A Northern Kingdom restored. The Dunedain returned to its former glory. His great chieftain crowned as king. It was so distant but the mere thought of it was enough to battle the gloom.

These were the times when he missed his family the most. His mother and his younger siblings. He had not been able to make it home to the Angle for Yule this year. Not many Rangers had. Evil seemed to lurk in every corner and the Dunedain were stretched thin. It was a difficult year and for a young man, the solitary life of a wanderer had made him grim. How nice would it be if he could light a fire? Eat a warm meal. But in these dire times, Rangers forsook fires at night. They might wake up to unpleasant company. And with that last thought, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The hamlet, it appeared, had almost disappeared under the heavy snow that had fallen the night before. Anarath looked down onto it from the crest of a hill. He could just barely discern the outlines of the rooftops, all covered in white and gleaming in the morning sun. He slowly began his way down the deep drifts of snow, pulling the bridle of his horse behind him which was in its turn leading the cattle and other horses that Anarath had saved from the destroyed farmstead. As dangerous as the North Downs appeared, it was beautiful in a way. It didn't matter the season. There was something surreal about the land, with its rolling hills and woodlands and ruined strongholds, that had called to him and his time spent wandering the region had generated a deep appreciation for its beauty. If it were a more peaceful and less pressing time, Anarath could see why the northern Kings of old had made this region their capital. The only place that surpassed this was the banks of Lake Evendim far to the west. Or the Weather Hills in autumn.

A cry rang out from the direction of the village and Anarath can only imagine the scramble of activity that was going on inside the makeshift fortifications that the villagers had constructed for themselves. Life in the North Downs was harsh. Strangers were treated with heavy suspicion and it took a lot of time and trust-building before they accepted an outsider. And Anarath was unlike other strangers. He was a Ranger, who were often seen as ruffians or brigands to the local farmers throughout Eriador. But the desperate struggle to survive that defined life in the North Downs had facilitated in breaking down some of those barriers. And while he knew the villagers still eyed him warily, they at least were willing to accept his help and give him much-needed news.

He slowly approached the small wooden gate and pulled his hood off his head, raising his hand as a sign of peace.

"Ranger!"

The wooden gate opened and a young man around his age stepped out towards him. It was Kraft, the village headman's son. Of all the villagers, he was the closest who Anarath could call a friend, for he had long shaken off the usual distrust that most held towards Rangers.

The two men clasped hands and Kraft grinned at him.

"Gods, I glad to see you. The storm yesterday nearly did us in. I was wondering how you would manage out there. But it appears that you Rangers always seem to beat the odds."

Anarath gave a rueful smile, "Yes, it would appear so," but then his face turned grim as he continued, "I was patrolling near the Lancrofts home yesterday. I'm afraid there was an orc band in that area and I came too late."

Kraft's cheerful expression disappeared as he too grimaced at the news. "Ah…I'm sorry to hear that. They were good folk. May they rest in peace." They stood there in silence for a moment before Anarath gestured to the animals.

"I salvaged what I can from the fields. Hopefully you may find some use for them."

Kraft nodded and said with a heavy voice, "Aye, that we can. It appears that with every passing day, the news just won't get better. What is a man to do in such times?"

Anarath clasped him sympathetically on the back. "Good times will come, my friend. Winter always drives men mad." Kraft just sadly shook his head.

With another sigh, he turned to the Ranger and said, "I'm forgetting my manners. Please, come on inside. A large cup of mead would do you good."

Anarath ruefully shook head, "My thanks, but I must get going. There are some other places that I need to check up on and the days are short." The thought of a warm drink next to a fire was sorely tempting, but he was needed elsewhere.

Kraft nodded and said with smile, "Well, you Rangers always liked to be on the move. But before you go, I have something for you." He pulled out a small roll of paper from his pocket and handed it to Anarath. "This was delivered ten days ago by raven. It was addressed to you so I'm guessing it must be one of your Ranger friends."

Anarath took the small roll and thanked his friend. Untying the rope that led all the livestock, they herded the animals past the village gate before he finally took his leave. There were few men like Kraft. They were the kind who saw past common prejudices to really judge a man for himself. And for that he was ever thankful. Anarath made his way back up the hill and tying his horse to a nearby tree, he quickly unrolled the message.

 _Anarath,_

 _Hope you are well. Bad news has reached me and I'll need your report. If you can make it, please come to the usual place within ten days past the new year. Take care. – H_

He reread the message again, thoughts whirling. He wasn't bound to make his report until the end of the month. But something had happened. Something that had prompted Halbarad to move early. It was already the fourth day past and he would need to hurry. The usual place of meeting was in Bree, far to the south of where he was stationed. The heavy snows would only make travel harder. But he was heading west again anyways, so he could stop along the way to continue his tasks before he turned southwards. With a renewed vigor, he stuffed the note into his pocket and rode off.

* * *

The Greenway was an ancient road built long ago during the height of the Northern Kingdom. It started from the ruined city of Fornost down south all the way into Dunland, meant to connect Arnor with the southern kingdom of Gondor. Anarath had stopped for the night, setting up camp off the path of the wide road. To his north lied the fields of Fornost and just on the other side was the ruined city of Fornost Erain. Once the chief city of the North Kingdom, it was now a place to be feared. Deadman's Dike it is now known and none even dared to go near it, save the Rangers. After all, this was their ancient home and who else would look after it if not the Dunedain. The hope was ever present: of a time when Fornost would be reclaimed. He didn't come often to the Fields and had only ever been within Fornost once, treading just beyond the Norbury Gates. Though he had seen no one, there was _something_ that lived there. Something that could be felt even where he was now. The mere terror of the place was enough to drive away the hardiest of men. So for the present, he merely watched. Tomorrow, his road would be a bit smoother. The Greenway led straight past the West-gate of Bree but he wouldn't take the road directly. Best to travel a ways from it, lest he be seen. Of course, the comings and goings of a mere Ranger would not interest most folk, but in a world that was getting darker, caution was still needed.

* * *

Snow was falling lightly again. Raising his head wearily, Anarath could just make out the gleam of the lampposts through the night that marked Bree's West-gate. His horse plodded wearily beneath him. They had rode hard throughout the day and aside from the small farmsteads that could be seen from afar, they had encountered no one. Pulling his hood off his head, he lifted his face up towards the sky, letting the snow gently land and melt on his face.

He slowly got off his horse and strode up to the wooden gate, knocking on it three times, wondering if he would be able to get into the town smoothly.

"Who goes there?" A rough voice called out as the little window opened. It was old Harry Goatleaf, the West-gate keeper. He saw the lone rider and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's your business here Ranger?"

Anarath inwardly sighed to himself. He was no stranger to Bree and every time he passed through the village, Harry stopped him with the same old question, though not that he could blame him. It was his duty after all as the night's watchman. But the exhausting day he had had threatened to rouse his normally peaceful temperament, though he quenched it as best he could lest he be denied entry.

"I wish to stay at the inn for the night. No trouble will come from me," he replied as pleasantly as he could, trying to keep himself from shivering in the night cold. Harry's jaw was taut and he stared hard at Anarath for many moments, as if he was in half his mind to just close the window on his face. But Anarath knew he would relent. He always did. Harry was tough. He had to be given his job, but inside, he had a kind heart, much like most of the Bree-landers.

"Oh, alright. Come on in. But you keep your word or you'll be thrown out, you hear?" Harry growled as he opened the gate and stepped aside to let Anarath pass.

"My thanks Harry." He pulled his horse quickly past the gate and into the village, making his way down the cobbled street. He could see the light from the fires in the windows of the nearby houses. Most people had already gone indoors for their evening meal and the road were largely empty. The Bree-landers had no love for the Rangers, but Anarath couldn't help but feel his spirits of being in a familiar place. He made his way towards _The Prancing Pony_ inn. It appeared to have a full house tonight. The stables were mostly full and even outside, he could hear voices and singing and laughter emanating from the building. After making sure his horse was secure in the stables, he went up the steps and pushed the door open.

A blast of warm air and the raucous noise of the people washed over him. "Oi, close the door! Don't let the snow blow in!" Someone yelled out.

"I'm sorry. It's been a busy day. I've been on my feet since I've forgotten when. How may I help-oh," the large form of Barliman Butterbur appeared behind the counter before him, his face freezing as he saw his latest customer.

"Barliman, it's good to see you."

"You. Back again? I'm sorry, but everything's full if you're looking to stay the night," the innkeeper's face grew stern as he tried to shoo away the unwelcome guest.

Anarath inwardly sighed and felt his annoyance slowly begin to rise, until a new voice sounded behind him. "Master Barliman, if it's alright, he can share my room with me." Anarath whirled around to find the grinning face of Halbarad Dunadan.

"Halbarad!" The two men embraced, laughing at their meeting. Barliman just stood there, perhaps in shock of seeing normally grim-faced Rangers this jovial and not sure how to react to the fact that two Rangers were now in his house.

Turning to the bewildered innkeeper, Anarath grinned, "Oh come on Barly, it's only me. I'll stay out of the way and I'll pay the regular price."

Barliman just threw up his hands as if in defeat. "Oh very well. You'll be wanting dinner I suppose? And ale?"

"Pipe-weed too if you can good Master," Halbarad added and then he dropped a few more coins into his hands, "and this is for some privacy if you will."

"Of course, well I'll go get your meals," and with that the innkeeper sauntered off to the calls to serve more beer.

"Come on, I've got a table off to the sides. We can talk there." The two Rangers went off to a more inconspicuous part of the large common room. It was away from the fire but it offered a bit more privacy that the Dunedain sought. Anarath dropped into his seat with a large sigh of contentment. Perhaps it was the warmth of the fire, or that his long journey was over for now, or maybe it was the comforting and uplifting presence of a familiar and friendly face in Halbarad. But something certainly had lifted his spirits as he peeled his wet woolen gloves from his hands and draped his cloak over the back of his chair.

Eyeing him critically, Halbarad remarked, "You look ten times older. No longer the green boy we knew from before."

Anarath merely laughed and accepted the proffered cup Halbarad held out to him. The two friends just sat for a while, catching up and just enjoying a well-earned drink. True to his word, Barliman came with their meals and pipe-weed and then left them alone.

With his stomach fuller than he could remember in a long while, Anarath leaned back on his chair, feeling happier than he had in a long while. How every night could be like this, but he could only wish.

"So, Halbarad. You called me here earlier than I expected. Bad news?"

Halbarad grimaced and his countenance grew dark. "Bad news indeed Anarath. Bad news. The North seems to be teeming with orc activity. The Misty Mountains are in an uproar. Aragorn and I were there last month investigating and had it not been for Elladan and Elrohir, we would not have made it out alive."

With a heavy sigh, he continued on, "Aragorn wanted everyone close at hand. With our kindred dispersed throughout the North, we won't be able to stop anything big if it were to arise."

Anarath nodded slowly. That made sense. Scattered as they were, the Dunedain could keep a large watch over Eriador, they would be too few in numbers to deal with a major problem in one area. He frowned slightly. "So…what's going to happen to me then?"

Halbarad let out a drawn-out puff of smoke before answering, "I knew you'd pick up on it sooner or later. You're being reassigned my friend. There's been in increase in brigand activity throughout this area and I'm also going to need some sharp eyes out here and in the east." Anarath drew his breath. A reassignment. That was certainly unexpected. As hellish as many may find the North Downs, it was his charge. He had come to appreciate the land and its people and he could not willingly abandon them.

Halbarad must have caught his expression because he added gently, "The people up north will not be unprotected. And it's not because of your performance either Anarath. You have done splendidly." He took a quick glance around and, satisfied that none of the diners were even remotely interested in the two strangers, leaned in closer whispering, "Mithrandir has made contact and Aragorn might be away for some time." Anarath's eyes widened at that. The Grey Pilgrim had long been a friend and ally of the Rangers but he had not been around for some time. And the fact that Aragorn was also leaving made him understand the gravity of the current situation.

Anarath nodded once more and took a deep breath. "Alright then. Tell me."

* * *

"What do you think Aragorn's expecting?"

The noisy backdrop of the common room had died down somewhat as the night deepened.

With smoke lazily billowing about them, the two Rangers looked out of the window beside their table and into the night.

"I can't be sure. It's just a feeling that we had. Elrond felt it too. This increase in orc and brigand activity…it can't be just a coincidence. That's why we need to be vigilant," Halbarad replied. They sat on in silence, each deep in their own thoughts, before Halbarad eventually got up.

"Well, I must be off. There's something I promised Aragorn I'd investigate."

Anarath jumped up from his seat, "So soon! It's late out. Why not start tomorrow?"

Halbarad chuckled and clasped Anarath on the shoulder. "No. I've been cooped up here for almost three days now. I'm itching to go out. Besides, you can use a room to yourself. You've earned it." He draped the cowl of his cloak over his head and together, the two Rangers made their way to the inn exit.

"I can come with you Halbarad. Or for Elbereth's sake, wait until morning at least."

"No, Anarath you deserve a good night's rest. Besides, there's nothing like a little night riding." He then added gently in face of Anarath's stubborn expression, "I'll be careful. I'll see you in a day or two. It's something I've been wanting to go investigate for a while now. I just had to wait around for you to finally trudge along." He grinned at the younger Ranger and Anarath finally relented. They bade each other farewell and Anarath slowly turned back towards the inn.

The townsfolk were still as rowdy as ever and ale seemed to be flowing aplenty this evening. He thought about going back to his seat but then decided to retire early. He felt the day beginning catch up to him and he was suddenly exhausted. He waited at the counter patiently for Barliman to tell him his room number and glanced about the room before something caught his eye.

A serving girl was trying to make her way through the tables, place a large platter of drinks in her hands. When she stopped to serve the table nearest to where Anarath was standing, she was suddenly grabbed by one of the men sitting there.

"Come on girl. Dance with me!" He was a very large man, bald and red in face. His voice was slurred as he roughly tried to drag the girl with him. She struggled, trying vainly to get free. His companions laughed and called out rowdily.

Anarath glanced around and sighed. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own drinks. He loathed to draw attention to himself but what else could he do? He quietly made his way over to the table and gently rapped the man on the shoulder, who turned around and squinted at him.

"I believe this young lady wish to be left alone." His companions fell silent and Anarath could feel the tension in the air. He placed a hand casually on his sword hilt clasped to his side, not aggressively but ready should it come to violence. The large man appeared to be taken aback. His hold on the girl slowly loosened as he turned to face the stranger who had dared ruin his fun.

"Keep out of my way longshanks. I don't need no Ranger to tell me what to do." He started to turn around once more but suddenly felt an iron grip on his forearm.

"Come now. The night is young. There's no need for trouble. Be merry." The young Ranger's voice was still pleasant. But there was a certain amount of steel that backed it up, along with the glint in his eyes, which made the large man pause. He sized the Ranger in front of him. He was tall and well-built but still had some hints of youthfulness on his face. His features displayed him as a man who felt more comfortable in the woods then in a town inn. Yet, there he stood, quietly challenging him, cool as a cucumber and seemingly unfazed at the fact that he was outnumbered. And suddenly, the large man decided not to push his luck.

"Eh," He grunted out after a long silence. "Didn't want to dance anyways." And with that, the tension in the air broke as he sat back down and loudly called Barliman to serve him more ale. Anarath inwardly sighed with relief. It wouldn't do to cause trouble. He was a Ranger after all and he didn't think the Night's Watch would take it kindly if he started a fight, though he would have done so in an instant should the girl be threatened again. He smiled at girl politely and nodded his head before turning around back to the counter where Barliman was currently brewing ale.

"Master Butterbur, I was wondering if you could show me which room my friend had rented for the night?"

"Half a second, Ranger. Let me finish this up." Barliman slowly filled the cups before laying them out on the counter to be served. Then together, they made their way upstairs to the guest rooms, before the innkeeper stopped at the room at the end of the hallway.

"This is yours Ranger. Would you be liking anything else tonight?"

"Actually, could I ask for a large tub of water and some soap if you will?" Barliman nodded and Anarath gave his thanks before he went into his room.

It was rather small, but comfortable-looking. A small fire had been lit in the fireplace and the curtains were pulled halfway closed. Anarath laid his pack down on the wooden chair and hung up his cloak on the little hook on the door. He unclasped his sword belt and laid it, along with his blow and quiver, against the wall. He had been in the wild for a long time, he realized. How wonderful it would be to sleep in an actual bed tonight, not having to worry about the cold or danger. Anarath surveyed his face in the small looking glass that hung on the wall and grimaced slightly. Beneath the grime and dirt, he realized that Halbarad was right. He did look a bit older. The harsh days in the North Downs had not been kind to him and he knew he needed to shave and bathe.

A gentle knock sounded on his door. He opened it to reveal the same serving girl he had encountered earlier.

"Here's the water and soap you asked for Ranger," she said to him in an uneasy voice, as if unsure of how he would react.

Anarath took the tub she held out to him and let a genuine smile break his features. "Thank you." That seemed to help the girl relax for she smiled hesitantly back before looking down at her hands.

She continued in a small voice, "Thank you Ranger for-well-for earlier." She wouldn't meet his eyes, but Anarath could feel the gratitude in her voice.

He smiled at her fidgeting form, "It was my pleasure. And please, call me Anarath." She finally looked up at him and gave another tiny smile. The light of the fire fell onto her face and Anarath realized to himself that she seemed to be around his age, perhaps younger by Bree-lander standards.

"Anarath," she said softly, "that's bet-," she cut herself up, cheeks turning red in embarrassment as if she almost blurted out something. She saw Anarath's questioning look before remarking, "I've heard some of the names they call you Rangers." And she stopped herself again, unsure how he would take the news. To her surprise, Anarath merely chuckled.

"Yes, most townsfolk react that way. I suppose we do have that rascally look. I'm surprised you haven't run away yet." He grinned good-naturedly, hoping to convey to her that he had taken no offence. That earned him another smile as the girl giggled.

"Well I figured Rangers couldn't be that bad if they saved me," she said in an amused tone of voice. A sudden call was heard from below. The serving girl looked back and then turned to Anarath with a slightly apologetic look.

"I have to go back down."  
"Oh, of course. It was nice meeting you, uh" Anarath realized belatedly that he never got around to asking her name and sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

She smiled again at his expression before shyly saying, "I'm Tessa." Then she quickly bade him good night and went downstairs.

Anarath stared after her retreating form before slowly closing the door. He leaned his head against the door and smiled to himself. This had turned out to be an interesting night. He took the tub and set it on the floor near the bed. He unhooked his breastplate from his chest and took off the tunic he wore underneath. Unlacing his worn leather boots and then his rugged woolen pants, he tossed his clothes into a pile and washed his face. His hair was unruly and dirt and mud coated his entire body.

"No wonder they take us as ruffians," he thought amusedly to himself. Setting to the task of cleaning both himself and his clothes, Anarath's thoughts wandered back to the serving maid he had met, Tessa. Perhaps this stay in Bree won't be too bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Please review if you can and let me know how it is. Many thanks!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings nor any of its characters.

 **II : A Brush with Death**

Pain, aches, exhaustion. That was all he felt, although by this point, a certain numbness had engulfed his body such that he really didn't feel much at all. Anarath stumbled down the uneven hill, losing his footing and falling face first onto the muddy ground. The rain poured down relentlessly, as it had been for most of the week, soaking his clothes through to the skin. _"It never rains but it pours we say in Bree."_ Anarath grimaced into the grass as old Barliaman's words came back to him, spoken what felt like a long, long time ago. He clutched his ribs, trying desperately to stem the blood flowing from his wound, a near impossible task given how thoroughly soaked he was. He pawed at the dirt in front of him, willing himself to get back up and on his way again for his exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm him.

" _Maybe you should just rest here for a second,"_ A small voice in his head spoke softly. _"Close your eyes for a bit and everything will feel better."_

Anarath desperately tried to ignore the voice, only succeeding to flip himself over and onto his back. He stared up at the dark sky, rain relentlessly pounding his face.

" _Is this it? Is this what death feels like? If so, it feels like nothing at all."_ It's strange how warm he felt, given how cold and damp he was. Perhaps fever is starting to set in. His eyelids threatened ever stronger to close and he was sorely tempted to just go to sleep.

" _Yes, to sleep. Death isn't so bad. It's just a gateway into another world. Another adventure,"_ the gentle voice whispered. _"Let go of yourself. Let go of your burdens and suffering."_ His eyelids drooped and, after a moment, finally closed. He barely felt the rain at all, neither cold nor pain.

" _But is this how you're going to go?"_ Another voice now whispered, as lulling as the first. _"All broken and hopeless?"_

" _Is there another way to go?"_ Anarath asked weakly, wishing that the voices would leave him alone and let the peacefulness that was beginning to engulf him pull him to sleep. _"This way isn't bad. No pain at all."_

" _But what about the pain of the living?"_ The second voice now asked, even fainter than before. _"You are a Dunadan. There is still fight in you."_

Anarath wondered what the voice could possibly mean. He knew deep down that the moment he had stopped trying to pull himself off the ground, he would not get up again. He couldn't possibly have any fight left.

" _No. But that's not a bad thing. Fate controls us all."_ The first voice was now back, gently pulling him further away from consciousness.

" _Yet, he's right. I am Dunadan. The fight against the Shadow isn't over yet."_

The pull of peace was strong, but now slowing ebbing away. _"No, I cannot go just yet."_ The first voice was starting to fade. He was beginning to feel again.

" _I am a Dunadan."_ His eyes opened.

* * *

To his dying day, Anarath would never know how he managed to get himself to the East-Gate of Bree in his state. He knew what had drove him on, duty and determination, but how that gave him all that extra strength was something he could only wonder at. It had taken an enormous amount of effort to drive himself back onto his feet and for the next day, he had stumbled blurredly onwards, wet, cold, and beyond exhausted. His body was numb to the pain of his wound and he all but dragged himself onwards, not daring to stop even for a bit and hoping that his innate sense of direction would lead his two aching feet onwards towards help.

Anarath sent a silent prayer to the gods as he saw the familiar wooden gate of the small town through the wet strands of his long hair. Soon, his journey would be over.

It had not started out so. When spring had arrived, Anarath had set out to patrol the Weather Hills in the Lone-Lands east of Bree. It was a wild and lonely land, hence the name. Travelers who dared to brave the East-West Road these days were scarce. The Bree-landers considered the lands to their direct east an untamed region of the world and only those with ill-intent wandered there. Indeed, it was the rising number of brigand bands who had made their hideouts beyond the Midgewater Marshes and the Weather Hills that had led Anarath to investigate the situation in the first place. The numbers that had been reported gathering were enough to overwhelm all of Bree and its three surrounding villages should their plans come to fruition.

At first, all had started out well. Anarath had had little difficulty in finding the brigand camps and he was easily able to blend in with the crowd. But his disguise hadn't lasted long enough. He had risked eavesdropping outside one of the brigand captain's tents late one night when he had the unfortunate event of being stumbled upon by a drunk ruffian, who angrily started to shout at Anarath. The commotion had drawn the attention of the camp and his cover was blown.

Getting out of the camp was relatively easy all things considered. He used the darkness as his cloak and the numbers to his advantage, carefully blending back in with the crowd, raising chaos and confusion amongst the ranks until he could slip away. He had been on the run ever since, for over six days. Tracking parties had been sent after him and Anarath had been forced to make his way further east instead of back west to Bree. It was only after he was sure he had lost his pursuers before he dared head back west again. Of course, it also didn't help that he had caught an arrow to his ribs during the chase. Though the brigand who shot him had paid for it with his life, Anarath couldn't help but wonder now if he was going to do the same. He was a poor healer but he knew enough of the basics to get the arrow out and treat and bind his wound using the _athelas_ that he carried in his bag. But even so, a wound needs rest if it is going to heal and that was of short supply. He was constantly on the move and then the rains came, soaking him through and causing the wound to reopen. Blood soaked through his bindings. He was out of herbs, as _athelas_ is hard to come by in the wild, growing only in places were the Dunedain had once dwelt.

Still, he had been unimaginably lucky. There were countless ditches in the Lone-Lands and any one of them could have contained his dead body. By either sheer force of will or by stubborn stupidity, he had gone on. And now he stood, his whole body shaking, delirious with fever, as he tried to find the strength to pound the gate.

It was nightfall. Even if it were daytime and he not a Ranger, he would have found it hard to gain entrance into the village. The Bree-landers regarded the Lone-Lands with heavy suspicion and not a little bit of fear. Anyone who came from it were not viewed on lightly. Yet, it was his only hope now. As determined as he was, Anarath knew that there was no way he could walk the entire length of the town's walls around to the West-gate in his state.

The door opened to review a figure holding up a lantern.

"Who goes there?" The figure called out, his face hidden within the cowl of his cloak for the rain still poured relentlessly on.

"Anarath," Anarath croaked out his name, his voice hoarse from disuse after many days alone in the wild. "Stay…inn." A certain lightheadedness was beginning to overtake him and he stumbled, reaching out to grab the gatepost, trying to keep his balance.

"Please…" After six days, Anarath was finally overwhelmed. His vision was more and more blurred and he remembered nothing more as he collapsed onto the ground.

* * *

There was a strange sense of being that existed between the waking and sleeping worlds. Anarath slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling neither awake nor asleep. He felt as if he were on fire, fidgeting around endlessly trying to find peace. He was at some points aware of soft voices, but he could neither decipher what they were saying nor who for he would just as promptly pass out again. He would open his eyes, but he would not see. The world was a blur to him but he did notice he was lying on a bed. Now how did that happen? The question had barely passed his mind before unconsciousness claimed him again.

But then the dreams started. Nightmares concerning his family, his kin. He dreamed of the wild, how he had lived and almost died in it. Perhaps he was dead already, for he certainly did not feel alive.

* * *

Barliman Butterbur was a busy man. The torrential rains that had filled the early weeks of spring had forced most people indoors. Bored and unable to do much outdoors, the people who had been staying at _The Prancing Pony_ had been forced to stay extra nights. Though it was wonderful for his business, Barliman did wish that the rains would slacken soon. The number of visitors, in addition to his regulars, had kept him and his staff running ragged over the last couple days. And so, it was with somewhat less than his usual jolly mood that he welcomed his latest guest, made even less so when he recognized the man.

"If you're looking for a room here Mr. Strider, or whatever you go by, you had best find someplace else. We've been packed here for the past week. The storms have been keeping everyone in."

Aragorn hid a smile at Barliman's remark. Barliman tended to claim that his inn was full a rather lot when he and his Rangers came calling.

"Rest assured good Barliman, I'm not here looking for a room. Though a nice cup of tea would be much appreciated if it's not too much trouble," Aragorn replied, hoping to mollify a Barliman who looked dead on his feet.

"Oh…" Barliman seemed a bit lost for words, a state unknown to the people who knew him well. "Well, I'll just be getting your tea then." He sauntered off, thinking that he really needed a nap.

Aragorn settled down on one of the stools by the counter, his thoughts far away from the din of the tavern room. The winter had been hard that year and spring was looking no better. It had been many lonely months in the wild, though he had the fortune to encounter Gandalf a couple times. A fortune that he knew many of his men had not had these months. They were scattered throughout Eriador, dutifully keeping watch over the lands, as was their charge. Many had not been able to return home to the Angle for Yule, plowing through the days at their lonely posts, ever watchful of the danger that seemed to increase with each passing day.

Some of the younger Rangers would have had it especially hard, being less used to the solitude than the veteran ones. And it was with this last thought that brought Aragorn back to the present and the reason that he had stopped in Bree, as Barliman set the tea in front of him.

"Thank you Barliman. Do you by any chance know if a Ranger by the name of Anarath is staying here or anywhere in town?

Barliman looked solemn as he replied, "Aye. He was here not three days ago. Right state he was in too. Looked half-dead and barely conscious when Terence Thistlewool woke me. It was past midnight and he mentioned that your friend had collapsed at the East-gate."

Aragorn felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. "What happened to him? Is he okay? Where is he?"

"What happened I can only guess. He was blazing with fever and soaked through. Suspect the pneumonia got to him before he got back. He had a nasty wound in his ribs too, bleeding all over the place but he couldn't stay here."

Aragorn's expression darkened. He and his men were more than used to the treatment they received from the Bree-landers, but this was not merely a barbed comment or insult hurled their way.

"Yes, I suspect the _Pony_ was quite filled with guests," Aragorn said coldly, his previously mild tone of voice replaced with an edge of steel.

Barliman looked up in surprise and then realized what he had just said. "Oh no, please understand," he gestured hurriedly to appease the Ranger, who had suddenly looked very threatening, "I know Bree doesn't exactly welcome you Rangers, but we would never turn away a man on death's door. The _Pony_ 's been packed for days and I didn't think your friend would rest easy in a cramped-up space with all this noise. And all the attention from the nosy townspeople surely wouldn't have helped either." The innkeeper looked fearfully at Aragorn, who looked a bit mollified, before he continued, "I even had him in my room for a day, but it wasn't helping so one of my serving girls offered to take him to her home."

Aragorn stared hard at the innkeeper, who was fidgeting immensely but nonetheless looked the solemn Ranger in the eye. There was nervousness in there, but Aragorn could see he was being honest, not that he had much to doubt. The Bree-landers had no love of their kind and they were fiercely protective of their own. But they were also a very kind people who wouldn't hesitate for a second to help a wounded man. Even a Ranger it seemed, Aragorn smiled a bit at that, feeling oddly touched.

To Barliman's surprise, Aragorn bowed low at him, "I apologize for my words then Barliman for I misjudged you. You Bree-landers are very protective to your own and we are just the same. I am in your debt for helping one of my men and I hope you can forgive me."

Now this was a strange experience. Barliman had thought, as did most of Bree, that these strange Men were little better than brigands. Wanderers of the wild who had no home nor code. Perhaps he too had been misjudging.

"Well now," he replied gruffly, still very much taken aback, "there's no need for that. No need. I expect you'll want to know where he is right now?"

Aragorn nodded, "As quickly as possible if you can." He left a few coins on the counter for his drink, as well as a generous tip for the innkeeper of whom he had a much higher opinion of now.

"Of course, well the girl lives very close to here, just a few houses down the block. You'll want to ask for Tessa…"

* * *

Aragorn hurried down the cobbled street, wrapping his cloak closer around him against the pouring rain. He wondered how Anarath was doing. The news that Barliman had given was grim and Aragorn hoped that everything would turn out ok. As scattered as they were, the Rangers were an exceptionally tight-knit group of people. Aragorn made sure to check up on each of his Men personally throughout the years. The wild can be an exceptionally lonely place and the struggles that the Dunedain endured bound them together. Anarath was young, but very much had proven to be capable over the years and Aragorn hoped that he would be on the mend, as both his captain and his friend.

He stopped at the house that Barliman had indicated. It was smaller than the other houses around but had a very cozy feel to it. He rapped gently on the door and after a brief opened, the door creaked slightly open to reveal a pretty young woman with honey-blond hair who peered at the strange man in front of her, looking slightly anxious.

Aragorn bowed slightly, "Mistress. Forgive me for coming unannounced. I am called Strider and I am looking for a woman named Tessa, who I am told by Mr. Barliman could be found here."

The door opened slightly wider as the woman took a closer look at the cloaked Ranger.

"I am Tessa," she answered, "can I ask your business with me?"

"I am looking for a friend of mine who I heard was wounded and currently in your care. I am anxious to see him."

A light of understanding passed Tessa's face before a line of concern crossed her face.

"In that case, please come inside. Your friend is here with me." She stepped aside and allowed Aragorn to step into the warm room.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure if your friend is getting any better," Tessa informed him as she led Aragorn down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. "He lost a lot of blood and his fever refuses to go down. I tried to call a healer, but he couldn't do much for him because his herbs were running low. The rain's making it impossible to restock." She wrung her hands, looking worriedly at Aragorn.

"Will you allow me to take a look?" Aragorn asked. The girl nodded and opened the door which led into a small bedroom. Aragorn stepped inside and there on the small bed lay his friend. There was a towel across his forehead and his face was flushed.

Tessa reached for the towel and dampened it again in the tub of water beside the bed.

"He's been sweating a lot but the fever hasn't broken. It's been like this ever since Watchman Thistlewool brought him in." She gently placed the wet towel across Anarath's forehead again. "There's an arrow wound on his side that looks infected. I tried to clean it and put a salve on it but again, it doesn't look like it's working."

Aragorn gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for everything you have done for him. If you will allow me the use of your kitchen, I will try to do what I can." Tessa turned and stared at him in surprise.

"You are a Healer?" she asked incredulously.

* * *

The two of them stayed up late into the night. Aragorn had brought with him his supply of herbs and with the use of Tessa's pot and fireplace, had prepared an _athelas_ salve, applying it to Anarath's arrow wound. Aragorn had then proceeded to wash his friend, trying to cool him off and lower the fever. It had been slow work, but by the next day, Anarath had slowly stopped his restless movements and his breathing become more and more regular.

"This is a good sign," Aragorn said softly to Tessa, as they both sat wearily next to Anarath's sleeping form. He turned towards the young woman, who looked exhausted and had bags under her eyes.

"You should get some rest. I will watch over him."

Tessa gave a small smile, "I will go in a bit. I want to see if he'll be ok."

Aragorn nodded and smiled thoughtfully. Barliman had told him that she had adamantly insisted that the wounded Ranger be taken to her house. Over the past two days, he had noticed how Tessa had cared over his wounded friend. She was surely exhausted, tending to him for over four days now, but she had neither cared nor even seemed to notice. Sometimes, she would just sit and watch over the sleeping Ranger, a look of tenderness in her eyes. It was clear that she was very fond of Anarath and Aragorn found himself both amused and curious.

"He is a close friend of yours as well?" Aragorn asked her.

The young woman looked at him before flushing slightly and settling her gaze back on their patient.

"I wouldn't say close friend," she started a bit shyly, "but he sort of rescued me once when he was staying at the inn. He had no reason to, but he was really kind for a Ranger." Her head then snapped back to Aragorn in horror before hurriedly saying, "That's not to say Rangers can't be kind. I didn't mean it that way. It's just…"

Aragorn gave a small chuckle, "No please, it's quite alright. I suppose we Rangers tend to stick out here. And we aren't exactly the most sociable of people. But I'm glad Anarath was able to help you when you needed it and I am in your debt for helping him as you did."

Tessa glanced down at her hands, "It's only right that I helped him, though I would have done so regardless. Do you know how he came to be like this? Who could have shot him?"

Aragorn turned his gaze back to his sleeping friend before replying softly, "That's something I want to know as well."

* * *

Anarath's first recollection of anything remotely resembling consciousness was when he woke up and found himself in a small bedroom. He slowly opened his eyes and was instantly blinded by the sunlight that poured in through the window, unused to the bright light that filtered in. He blinked several times, slowly adjusting his eyes and his mind to this strange new environment. His head still ached and his mind was a jumble of thoughts as he struggled to remember how he came to this situation.

The only memories that came back were of pain. A long and exhausting journey. Anarath tried to prop himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. He gently felt his wound. It pained a lot less now and he wondered who had been kind enough to rescue him. He found his answer almost immediately as he noticed for the first time a sleeping figure in a chair next to his bed. It was a girl. She had her head on the covers of the bed. Anarath studied the girl before recognition suddenly hit him. Tessa was her name. That's right. It was the serving girl at the _Prancing Pony_. Is that where he was now?

Tessa stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Where was she? She sat up and gently massaged her neck, trying to ease her sore muscles. She must have fallen asleep sometime during the night. She looked at the Ranger and started to see him sitting upright and staring at her.

She jumped up in surprise, "Oh, you're awake!"

Anarath grinned weakly at her, "I think so. If I'm still dreaming, it's a much better dream than earlier."

Tessa felt her face grow warm and she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth.

"How are you feeling?" She reached over and gently placed the palm of her hand on his forehead, feeling the temperature.

"Sore all over, but not nearly as hot as before. Not that I can remember much." Her hands were very soft, Anarath realized. "Do you know how long I've been like this?"

"Over four days now," Tessa told him gently, "the watchman brought you to the _Pony_ one night and you were already passed out. But it was too crowded there so I brought you over to my house where there would be a bit more peace and quiet."

Anarath looked at her in wonder, feeling a strong wave of both gratitude and something more for the young woman in front of him. She had no reason to help him but not only had she made place in her home for him, but she had also cared for him for four days.

"Then I am in your debt. You saved my life and I cannot thank you enough for what you have done," Anarath said as he made a half-bow to her as his sore muscles were permitting.

Tessa blushed but smiled wider nonetheless. "No need for thanks. Besides," she grinned gently, "it's the least I can do for my savior, even if it is a Ranger." Anarath laughed as he recalled their last encounter. In the light of everything that had happened to him, he couldn't help but feel happier than he had been for a long while. Sure, he had barely escaped death's door and a while away from being fully healed. But the feeling of companionship and laughter did much to help the process along. And he was even happier when at that moment, the door opened and a tall man walked into the room and looked at the talking pair in surprise.

"Aragorn!"

* * *

It had taken almost a week, but Anarath soon felt himself back on his feet, his fever gone and his body well-rested. His wound had healed nicely. The _athelas_ had helped fight the infection extremely well and except for a twinge of pain here and there, it didn't bother him.

Aragorn had stayed for another day longer and when he was sure that Anarath was well on his way to recovery, he had left, though not before asking Anarath the details of his mission and what had happened to him.

Now he too was ready to leave. Over the past few days, he had gotten to know Tessa extremely well. She was fun to talk to and loved to laugh and Anarath found himself missing her company when she was away from her home attending to her duties at the _Pony_. But loth as he was to leave, he did feel extremely bad for imposing on her. The house was small and Anarath knew that he couldn't continue to stay under her roof.

It was early morning and his horse was all saddled and ready to go. Anarath turned towards Tessa, who was standing next to him, and smiled.

"I can't even begin to thank you enough. Not only did you save my life, but you let me stay with you and cared for me."

Tessa returned the smile a bit sadly, "I'm just glad that you're on your feet again. Though…I will miss you," she looked down at her hands as she said that last part, cheeks reddening slightly. Anarath felt his heart skip a beat and he reached out to grab her hands.

She slowly looked up at him and her eyes glimmered.

"I'll miss you too, but I have duties that I must look to." She nodded in understanding. Over the past days, Anarath had slowly opened up to her about how he had acquired the wound and, by extension, what the Rangers truly were, though nothing in great detail.

"But," he added with a little smile, "I do have something for you though." Tessa looked at him curiously before he reached into his saddle pack and brought forth a small bundle of flowers that he had collected the past day while she had been away.

He reached for her hands and wrapped them around the flower stems, his hands resting gently on hers.

"They are poor thanks for all you've done to me, but I hope they will be a promise that I can come and thank you properly the next time I am able," he said softly before laughing a bit nervously, "that is, if you are willing."

Tessa stared at the small bundle in her hands, overwhelmed at this unexpected but extremely sweet gesture. She raised her head to look at the young Ranger whom she had grown attached to over the past couple of days. A brave, funny, chivalrous, and stubborn Ranger.

"I would be extremely happy if you did," she said softly, gazing into those brown eyes that had a certain warmth she only ever saw directed at her. And feeling a sudden rush of courage, she stood up her tip-toes and gently kissed him on the lips. "And that's so you don't forget," she whispered.

Anarath stood, taken completely surprise by the kiss, before a wide smile broke across his face. He gently wrapped his arms around the beautiful young woman who had saved his life and smiled into her hair. "It's a promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Please review if you can and let me know how it is. Many thanks!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings nor any of its characters.

 **III : Sarn Ford**

 _22 September, 3018 T.A._

 _*Shreikkkkk*_

The ear-piercing cry tore through the night, chilling the men to their bones. Anarath shuddered at the sound, crouching low on the grassy banks of Brandywine river. Ever since the sun had set, these shrieks had filled the night, chipping away at the morale of the Rangers stationed at Sarn Ford. There was something supernatural about them, a hidden power in their voices that sapped at the strength of those who heard it. Anarath clutched tightly at his longbow, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and not cower at the dreadful sound, however much he was tempted to.

He glanced around at the figures around him, fellow Rangers who had masterfully blended into the few trees and shrubbery that marked the banks of the Brandywine. The steadfast resolution that shone through their eyes were enough for Anarath to force his fear aside. He may be the youngest of them all, but he would not allow himself to falter, not when so much was at stake. A shadowy figure dropped to his side, crouching down low with an arrow nocked ready.

"All right there?" It was Halbarad, their captain and second-in-command to Aragorn. Of all the Rangers, except for perhaps his great chieftain, Anarath was glad that Halbarad was here. His stalwart resolve and steadfast presence was invigorating to all the Rangers who had gathered that day. While the Dunedain were hardy folk, Anarath doubted that they would have been able to withstand the hours of nonstop shrieking that came their way, sounds of terror that were growing ever closer it felt, if Halbarad hadn't been present to bolster morale.

Anarath grimaced in the dark, eyes trained on the ford, "Still hanging in there. Never imagined this day would come."

Halbarad glanced at the young Ranger, tensed up and anxious. Truth to be told, he felt the exact same way.

The Dunedain of the North had protected the people of Eriador ever since the fall of their kingdom over a thousand years ago. Ever they fought against the Shadow, but they had never actually experienced that Shadow, only its minions. The Rangers safeguarded towns, fighting brigands and highwayman. In the wilder regions, they came face to face with goblins, wargs, and orc-bands. But that was really the extent of their experiences. At worst, only a few had come face to face with trolls that roamed the Ettenmoors. Even the haunted wights that infested Tyrn Gorthad, or the Barrow-downs to the Bree-landers, paled in comparison to this more ancient evil that now threatened to attack. It was straight out of the tales of lore that were told to Dunedain children, stories that had once been thought to be exactly that: stories.

"It's just like the tales Mother used to tell me," Anarath spoke, his thoughts echoing those of Halbarad, who smiled slightly in return.

"And just like those stories, it'll be the heroes who prevail."

Anarath chuckled and glanced gratefully at his companion. It was small hope but even that was enough to battle the ever-growing tension that filled the night air. Even the moon had hidden itself away that evening, perhaps it too had sensed the danger.

As pitched-dark as it was, Anarath silently thanked the long months he spent in the wild, during which he had grown accustomed to operating after sundown. Dark as it was during nighttime, the human eye can still distinguish shapes if trained properly. Black clothing, ironically, can be perceived for it produces a deep shadow even in the darkness. That thought had barely crossed his mind when he saw a figure flash by on the far side of the bank. He was barely able to suppress a cry and unable to stop a grunt of surprise, something that the other Rangers had noticed too.

The shrieking came forth again, though this time Anarath could tell that they were very, very near. Suddenly, everything became quiet again. Anarath looked around him, trying to discern what was going on before a yell rang out. And as clear as day, he could now see nine shadowy horsemen standing stock-still at the other end of the ford. There was a muted silence, a moment where each side stood motionless staring at the other unable to react, before that silence was broken when more shrieks pierced the air as the Nazgul charged.

* * *

 _Some days prior._

"Where are we going?" Anarath asked for perhaps the umpteenth time that day as he trudged behind Tessa, his constant companion nowadays whenever he could afford to spend some time in Bree.

The young woman glanced back and glared at him, "Oh quit your whining. I thought you Rangers would feel right at home here."

Anarath grinned and retorted, "Yes, but we also like to be on top of things. And you still haven't answered my question."

Tess merely rolled her eyes and continued walking, though the sides of her mouth twitched with amusement.

The pair had decided to go on a picnic that day, away from the general hub-bub of Bree. They had walked north up the Greenway before Tessa had led them off the path and up a large hill heavily covered with trees, who's leaves were slowly beginning to color and fall as summer came to an end.

Truth be told, it had been hard for Anarath to come visit. The summer months had kept him busy scouting and inspecting the brigand camps that dotted Bree-land. Just when he thought he had a break, reports came to him of a new group of goblins that settled in the Midgewater Marshes, a place that Anarath could easily be happy to never set foot in again. The pesky insect swarms made life miserable enough, but the buzz and chirps of the neekerbreekers and Elbereth knew what else dwelled there made nighttime a living hell.

The few moments that he could spare, he spent with Tessa, either at the _Prancing Pony_ or taking walks when Tessa was finished with her work for the day.

It was strange now that he pondered it, as they continued to wind their way through the trees. They were two very different people, coming from very different backgrounds. Tessa had grown up and lived her whole short life in Bree, never having gone beyond a couple leagues away from Bree's four villages. In fact, the place that she was leading them to was probably about as far as she's ever gone away from her home. He, on the other hand, well…he certainly had roamed farther than that. Often, they would talk late into the night, Tessa being extremely interested in hearing stories of all the places he visited, the different people he had met.

Anarath smiled as he thought of those evenings. "Hey Tessa, have you ever wondered about how different we are?"

Tessa looked back at him again, eyebrows raised in mild surprise at the sudden question. "I've thought about it," she answered after a moment, "It's strange to grasp. We are different in a lot of ways, but also the same in others. Why the question?" She looked at him with a curious expression on her face.

Anarath smiled and shrugged, "Oh, just thinking I guess."

Tessa held her hands up in feigned surprise, "A rare moment indeed. I must note this down." Anarath poked her playfully at her side, making her giggle before they continued on their way.

"At least you're not whining anymore. Now go back to whatever it is you're thinking about and let me try and see if this is the right way to go," Tessa said good-humoredly and Anarath bowed deep in mock reverence before going back to his thoughts.

She worked as a serving maid. He was a Ranger, a remnant of an ancient race of Men. She lived in relative ignorance of the dangers that surrounded her town. He lived knowing full well of those dangers that would reduce the entire world to ashes if not contained. Their cultures, heritage, and even languages were different.

Sometimes, Anarath would talk about his own home village, far to the southeast in the Angle. He would talk of the games he played when he was a child, the times he had gotten into trouble wandering in the surrounding forests, the long absences of many of the Rangers, including his father who had been killed. Tessa would talk too about her own childhood times. She had lost both her parents young and had found lodging and a home thanks to Barliman Butterbur. The more he thought about it, the more reasons he could see why he felt so easy and free when Tessa was around. They both grew up in a relatively simple village, had lost parents, and had had to grow up too early. True, their backgrounds and experiences differed wildly, but the morals and principles that they had lived their lives by were the same. In fact, their differences made their relationship dynamic and exciting.

They just blended together extremely well, either by coincidence or by fate. Their unique quirks and personalities complemented each other's and, to be quite frank, they just worked. So perhaps Tessa was right, they were similar in a lot of ways after all. In the end, it didn't matter what background or culture they came from. Anarath just felt content and comfortable whenever he was with Tessa, something that didn't usually happen to him, especially with strangers he had only began to know.

"Ah, I knew it. This is it! We're finally here!" Tessa exclaimed, snapping him out of his thoughts, as the trees thinned out and Anarath found himself near the edge of a small cliff. He walked to the edge and gaped at what he saw.

The cliff overlooked a large lake, its banks dotted with a thin grove of trees and water shimmering in the bright noon sun. Beyond, Anarath could make out the wide fields of Bree-land far in the distance. It was a breathtaking sight, but something about the lake rang a distant bell in Anarath's memories.

"Hang on…," Anarath murmured before it finally struck him, "Hey, this is the Everclear Lakes isn't it! I recognize it, but I've never seen it like this before."

Tessa grinned happily at Anarath's reaction, "I knew you would appreciate it. I found this place when I was gathering herbs one day. Hardly anyone comes out here so this became my own little hideout."

Anarath smiled and looked at her, "It's wonderful. I'm glad you chose to share this with me."

She blushed slightly and looked down at her hands, "I'm glad too. It's been hard though to come here. The times aren't safe anymore to come alone."

Anarath gently wrapped his arms around his companion, placing his head gently on top of her own.

"Well my lady, I was very happy to escort you today."

Tessa chuckled and poked him softly in the stomach. "Come on, let's eat, I'll bet you're hungry." She disentangled herself and started unpacking the basket of food that they had brought with them.

" _Yes,"_ Anarath thought contentedly, _"They definitely did think alike."_

* * *

 _Later that evening._

"So, why the question?"

The pair was walking idly down the Greenway, hand in hand, back to Bree when Tessa asked the question seemingly out of nowhere.

Anarath looked at her with one eyebrow arched in question, "What question?"

"The one you asked me earlier. About how different we were."

"Oh." Anarath looked away with a bemused expression on his face. "I was just wondering how two people who were so different came to be together. Seemed like a lucky chance meeting." At that, Anarath broke off and gave a tiny smile.

Tessa cocked her head to one side and looked at her companion, "And what do you think?"

Anarath stopped walking and gently grabbed Tessa's other hand into his own, looking her directly into the eye.

"What I'm truly worried about is how the other villagers will react to this. After all, we Rangers are little better than vagabonds to them. I don't want to make you an outcast. This is your home."

So this was it. Ever since Anarath had asked her that question, Tessa had been wondering if something had gone wrong. They had had a very pleasant day together but after knowing him for this long, she could tell when Anarath had something on his mind.

Tessa gave him a small smile, "Anarath, you don't have to worry about me. If I were truly worried about what others thought, do you think I would be here?" She placed one finger on Anarath's lips as Anarath made to protest, "And yes, I know very well what the villagers think but I don't live for them. I've been on my own since I was still a child and you're the first person who has made me feel not alone. So don't think for a second I'm scared of some irritated neighbors."

Anarath stared at her for a moment, her eyes gentle but expression resolute and determined, before he leaned in and placed a kiss on her soft lips before smiling, "If that's your choice, who am I to argue my lady."

Tessa's smile broadened and she leaned into his hug. If she was being honest with herself, she felt more than relieved. She couldn't deny that a small sliver of doubt had been nagging at her the entire day, wondering if perhaps Anarath didn't want to keep seeing her anymore.

She turned towards her companion as they resumed their way back to Bree, "Still think we're different?"

Anarath laughed and slung his arm around Tessa's shoulder, "Yes, we are different. We are so very different. But we are also the same too in many more ways. And that's good enough for me."

Tessa smiled back and wrapped one arm around his waist. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Yes," Anarath said teasingly with a world-weary sigh, "I just can't seem to stay away from you," and laughed again when Tessa elbowed him in the side.

And then that laughter died in his throat as he froze suddenly in his tracks.

"Anarath?" The sudden change had surprised Tessa and she felt a small shiver of fear when she saw Anarath's face change from amusement to a look of pure concentration as he attuned his senses to his surroundings.

Perhaps it was some hidden sixth sense that had alerted him. An almost instinctual and feral premonition that something was not all right. And then he heard it. Hoofbeats. It was faint but getting louder by the second.

"Come on!" Anarath grabbed Tessa's hand and together, they ran off the main road of the Greenway into a small copse of trees. He unslung his bow and readied himself. Was there anything to be feared from a lone rider? Perhaps not, but he hadn't survived this long in the wild by being careless, for already he had been too much of that today. He cursed himself silently. He should have known better than to dawdle on the way home. The times were too dangerous for that.

He glanced over at Tessa, huddled beside him, eyes wide with anxiousness. He squeezed her hand briefly to convey a small bit of assurance before returning his gaze to the road. The hoofbeats got louder and it wasn't long before Anarath saw a cloaked figure come into sight. The rider was nearing their copse of trees when it suddenly slowed down and the rider glanced in their direction. Perhaps it too sensed danger. Anarath raised his bow and slowly nocked back an arrow trained on the figure, who he could see from the nearby lampposts was tall and garbed like a woodsman. There was a massive longbow slung on his back as well and Anarath's grip tightened when the figure unslung his bow and nocked an arrow as well, aiming it in the general direction of the trees. For several tense moments, the two bowmen stood still, one seen and one unseen. Anarath stood stock still, silently thanking the training that had been grounded into him as a Ranger. Ever the shadowy figures, Rangers knew that even the slightest movements can alert an enemy watching for exactly that.

"I'd like to have you out in the open please." The rider's clear voice cracked through the night.

Anarath almost dropped his bow in surprise before that surprise turned into relief and then joy.

"Halbarad!"

And just like that, the tension broke. Laughing, Anarath jumped up and emerged from the shadows of the trees, lowering his own bow as he stepped out onto the road.

The figure threw back the cowl of his cloak to reveal a very surprised-looking Halbarad.

"Anarath? What are you doing here?" He slowly lowered his weapon and dismounted. The two friends briefly clasped each other before Anarath responded, "Heard your horse coming and thought it was best to keep out of sight, not that it fooled you."

Halbarad smiled, "It's gonna take a couple more years before you can get past me." His gaze drifted past Anarath's shoulder and he grinned knowingly back at Anarath, "And who might you be?"

Tessa had hung back, looking in wonder at the reunion of the two Rangers. Other than Anarath, she hadn't had much exposure to any other Rangers, besides the healer who had helped her nurse Anarath back to health.

"I'm forgetting myself," Anarath turned around and said, "Tessa, this is Halbarad. He's a captain of the Rangers and a very good friend of mine."

Halbarad bowed low, "It's very nice to make your acquaintance my lady," to which Tessa returned the gesture.

"What's got you riding so late Halbarad?" Anarath asked frowning slightly as he looked more closely and saw the dirt and grime on Halbarad's face and clothes.

"Looking for you. It's actually good fortune that I was able to stumble upon you now." Halbarad's expression turned grim.

"Anarath, I need you to set out at once. There's trouble brewing here in the North and we have need of haste."

Anarath's eyes widened, "What's happening? Where am I going?"

"We have a small outpost on the southern borders of the Shire, near a ford that crosses the Baranduin called Sarn Ford. Do you know it?"

"Aye, I do."

"I need you to head there at once, as soon as you are able."

"So soon!" Anarath stared at his friend. "Halbarad, what's happening?"

Halbarad leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper so that only Anarath could hear, "The Nine are abroad again."

Anarath felt his heart stop as fear gripped him. Nazgul. The bane of the Northern Kingdom. It had been over a thousand years since Nazgul were seen in this side of the Misty Mountains and now they were on their doorstep.

"T-Truly?" Anarath couldn't help to keep the fear out of his voice. Halbarad nodded solemnly and made to remount his horse.

"Anarath, I'll explain what I can later. I'll meet you at Sarn Ford in two days' time. I need to gather as many Rangers as I can." Anarath can only nod mutely as Halbarad clasped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"A pleasure meeting you, Tessa," and with a brief nod, Halbarad got back into his saddle and looked at the younger Ranger.

"In two days' time."

"Two days," Anarath echoed and with another brief nod, Halbarad was gone, riding down south in a flurry.

Anarath stared at his retreating figure, a swirl of questions raging through his mind and a small shiver of fear running down his spine as he digested the news.

"Anarath?" Tessa walked over beside him and gently grabbed his hand with both her own, which was suddenly a lot colder than before.

Anarath gently shook himself out of his thoughts. More time for that later, he thought grimly. He tried to smile reassuringly to Tessa who was looking at him worriedly.

"Come on, let's get you home."

Their trip back was brisk and silent. Though he was sure Tessa was bursting with questions, she held back, to which Anarath was ever grateful. He himself hadn't fully managed to wrap his head around their new dire situation. With Tessa with him, they had little trouble gaining entrance through the West Gate and they made their way through the winding streets to Tessa's small house.

As they finally stopped in front of Tessa's door, Anarath turned and pulled her gently into a hug.

"I'm sorry I have to leave so soon. I would love nothing better than to be with you."

He felt her squeeze him tightly before she raised her head and looked up to meet his eyes.

"Anarath, what's going on?"

Anarath sighed and said worriedly, "I'm not sure Tessa. All I know right now is that something dangerous is headed this way. Something I never imagined I would ever face." He trailed off, a small part of him still couldn't believe that the reappearance of the Nazgul was real.

They stood there for a while, silently holding each other.

"I don't want you to go," Tessa said in a small voice.

Anarath smiled sadly, "I don't either, but I need to. We Rangers dedicated our lives to the protection of the North and now I think the time has come to honor those commitments."

Tessa hugged him tighter and silently nodded. She knew that he had to go. As much as she didn't want him to, she knew enough to know that it was their way of life. Yet, he'd been gone many times before but this time felt different. There was a feeling of dread and fear that had hung over Halbarad and Anarath and now Tessa feared more than she had ever done in the past.

"Hey, don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. I promise."

Tessa just nodded, not trusting her voice not to break as she felt a prickle of tears threaten her eyes.

"We'll go on another picnic again. Talk about the strange pull of a Bree-land woman." And that finally got a smile out of her as she gave a watery chuckle and rolled her eyes.

"Only if you don't go complaining on me again."

Anarath grinned and then raised his hand and gently brushed away a single tear that had slipped through her eyes.

"Hey, I had a wonderful day with you today." He said in a soft voice, all traces of amusement gone. "And I will be back soon. I promise."

Tessa looked at him and nodded. She leaned towards him and brushed her lips against his. They clung to each other, two people in the moonlight, before they finally broke apart and Anarath let go.

"Be safe." Tessa waved at him sadly. Anarath smiled at her, "I will." He pulled the cowl of his cloak over his head and headed down the cobbled street back towards the West-gate.

Tessa stood outside her house long after his retreating figure at faded into the night _. "These dangerous times had somehow gotten a lot more ominous,"_ she thought as she slowly made her way into her home. Anarath had only been gone for a while and she already missed his presence. She felt cold without him at her side and she couldn't help but worry over what Anarath had set out to do.

She drew some water into a tub and washed her face. It had started as a very pleasant day, spending time at her favorite spot in Bree with Anarath. It had been nice to get away from the village, but she didn't think she would have enjoyed it half as much if Anarath hadn't been there.

Yet, why couldn't she shake the sense of foreboding that continued to hover over her? Anarath had been gone on his missions many times before. " _But he has never been that anxious before. Nor so scared,"_ a small voice in her head whispered. She knew Anarath was as brave as any man she's ever known, probably more so. But even he couldn't keep the anxiety and fear hidden as they had walked back to her home.

" _Perhaps it's because now you finally realize how much you may lose,"_ the voice whispered. Perhaps so, Tessa thought, as she got into her bed. The possibility of losing Anarath had never been so real before. And she suddenly realized that she couldn't bear it if that were to happen to him. Deep down, she knew why, as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. It was love.

His face was the last thing she thought of as sleep claimed her. Just as it had been for a while now.

* * *

 _Present. Sarn Ford._

Chaos reigned. It was impossible to think. The terrible cry of the Nazgul filled the night as the nine horsemen charged across the narrow ford. Anarath heard the shouts and yells of the Rangers around him but he was paralyzed. A horrible feeling of dread and despair encompassed him, something that felt unnatural and yet so very real. His befuddled mind screamed at him to release the arrow that he still had drawn at the coming terror but his body refused to listen. He could only stand, rooted in place, as the huge black battlehorses charged ever closer.

"Dunedain! To me!" A deep bellow rang through the night and the trance lapsed slightly. It was Halbarad, as strong as Anarath had always known him to be and just like that the sickening hold of dread that had grasped him slackened and he shook his head to regain his senses.

"For the North!" With a mighty yell Halbarad leapt out of the trees with a dozen Rangers behind him, charging straight for the horsemen.

"Volley!" A hail of arrows arched their way through the sky but the Nazgul had the mastery at night. Their dark cloaks made it impossible to see clearly and the terror that they unleashed made it all the worse.

Another volley was released and several Nazgul were unhorsed, just as Halbarad and his men clashed into them. Spurred into action, Anarath drew his sword and leapt out after his commander. It was a night that Anarath would remember for the rest of his life. The sheer terror that coursed through him, though heart-stopping, did keep his senses razor-sharp as he ducked and dodged, trying desperately to avoid the lethal Morgul blades while at the same time trying to keep track of his enemies, who seemed to appear one moment and disappear the next in a swath of cloak. Five of the Nazgul who were still mounted charged straight for the trees where the Dunedain had posted archers. Shouts came from all sides, but all were drowned out by the hideous cry of the Nine. A huge flare lit up the light as Anarath paused to gape as one of the trees went up in flames. A mailed fist suddenly came out of nowhere and hit him straight in the back as he lurched forward from the impact. Pain racked his body as he felt the spiked fist tear through his skin. He cursed in pain and whirled around, bringing his sword up just in time to deflect a lethal overhead cut. The Nazgul in front of him shrieked once more, turning the world cold. The creature advanced upon him, striking so fast Anarath could barely parry one blow before another would come again. The pain made him unwieldy and the night doubly so. All around him, Rangers were falling as the Nine cut their way through. The fire had spread and soon the copse was alight in flames. The smell of burning wood filled the night air and embers flew in all directions, but at least now, he could see.

The Nazgul again relentlessly flew at him and Anarath could only stumble backwards away from the river as he desperately tried to fight off his adversary. He tripped over a tree root and fell backwards, losing the grip of his sword as he scrambled away from his pursuer. Fear gripped him as he stumbled through the trees, trying desperately to find a weapon. His massive longbow was useless at such a close distance and all he had was a small dagger which seemed pitiful compared to the morgul blades of their enemies. Hoofbeats were heard and Anarath turned at the incoming sound and sprang out of the way just in time to avoid a deadly cut that would have chopped off his head as a second Nazgul thundered by, wheeling around for another pass. He scanned the ground around him, furiously trying to find something to help him when his eyes lighted upon a strewn torch. He lunged for it and swept it out in a long arc around him, keeping the first Nazgul that had caught up to him at bay. It screamed at him, dancing around trying to find a way past the bright flame that kept it away. The second Nazgul came thundering towards him once more from his other side but the battlehorse reeled its front legs back at the last moment, desperately trying to avoid the burning flame as Anarath held it out as a pike before it. He leapt away to avoid getting crushed by the massive horse's legs and ducked again as the Nazgul tried to lop off his head.

" _I can't last much longer."_ Anarath thought grimly as he snaked his way away from the Nazgul blades as his two adversaries continued to come against him. " _This torch is all I have and there's no way I can beat these two, especially with one mounted."_

The thought had barely crossed his mind before he realized how much quieter the night was. The shouts that had filled the night were all gone, even the Nazgul screams had lightened.

" _What happened to all the others?"_ Anarath felt his stomach tighten in fear before he hurriedly crushed the thought. _"No,"_ he thought fiercely, _"They are with Halbarad. Halbarad has never let us down."_ The two Nazgul were slowly circling him, like wolves ready to pounce on their victim. He felt his back burn with pain, threatening to overwhelm him as he struggled to keep himself from doubling over.

" _At this rate, all they need to do is just wait for me to drop dead. Which may be soon,"_ Anarath through wryly. It was time to take a chance. To keep the status quo would be suicide. The massive black battlehorse pawed the ground and with a kick at its side, the mounted Nazgul charged at Anarath once more.

" _Here goes."_ Anarath turned to face the incoming rider, holding the long torch out in front of him and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The horse thundered closer and closer and Anarath struggled to keep his hand steady and his nerves in check.

" _Now!"_ Anarath suddenly sprang forward and slid onto his knees directly before the incoming battlehorse, brandishing the torch in front of him. The horse again reeled back to avoid the flames as Anarath thrust the fire at the creature, but too late. Everything happened in an instant. The Nazgul was thrown back off the horse and tumbled into the ground. Anarath then rolled back onto the side to avoid the horse as it come crashing back down on its legs neighing in pain, but he wasn't quick enough. One hoof kicked Anarath straight in the chest and he fell backwards, the wind knocked straight out of him. He felt the pain in his chest and knew his ribs were broken. He pawed desperately at the ground around him, trying to find the torch that he had lost during the impact. The pain was so intense that it blinded him. Blood was pouring through the wound in his back, soaking his clothes. The other Nazgul screamed and was already almost upon him when he finally grasped the torch. With a mighty yell, he pulled himself onto his knees and hurled the long torch like a javelin with all his strength. It caught the Nazgul straight in the chest and bounced right off. The impact itself was harmless, but the torch was never intended to do harm. The flames caught in the Nazgul's robes and soon engulfed it. It shrieked in fury as it flailed around and then fled into the night.

Anarath didn't have time to recuperate from his victory for the second Nazgul who had been dismounted was now upon him. He looked upon the creature, who slowly walked towards him holding a long morgul sword. He was at the limit and he had just tossed his only real weapon. So this is how it's going to end. He tried to draw his dagger but the Nazgul lashed out and kicked him, sending both the dagger and himself backwards. Anarath stared at the advancing figure, his breathing ragged and body too exhausted to move. At least he would die doing his duty and that thought at least made him smile. Mordor would not get the pleasure of seeing him die in despair.

The Nazgul stopped beside him strewn on the ground. He stared up at the darkness that emanated from under the Nazgul's cloak. An endless void it seemed to be, devoid of everything but terror. The Nazgul screamed into the night and brought its sword back to finish the lowly Dunedain who had caused it so much pain.

But it never managed to bring the sword back down for another torch suddenly hurled through the night and caught Anarath's would be executioner straight in the head. Again, Anarath could only watch in amazement as the Nazgul screamed in pain and fear, engulfed in flames.

"Anarath!" Hoofbeats were heard again and a figure soon dropped beside him.

"Halbarad," Anarath said in relief, his voice weak and hoarse. He struggled to sit himself up, but the pain that racked his body made even the smallest effort unbearable.

Halbarad quickly slung Anarath's arm around his shoulder and together, they managed to stand upright, Anarath leaning heavily onto his companion's shoulder.

"Here now, easy does it. One last effort my friend." They made their way clumsily to the horses.

"Halbarad. What's going on? Where is everyone?"

Halbarad helped Anarath into the saddle of what Anarath just realized was his horse. "Scattered or slain. We tried to rally but the Nazgul were too much for us. We all got separated during the fight. It was lost from the start." Halbarad sighed grimly as he mounted his own horse and they set out fast into the night.

"I tried to get as many of us out as we can, but so few made it out," Halbarad glanced at his companion and allowed a small smile to cross his features, "I saw that move you pulled with the horse Anarath. Nothing short of astonishing. You held your own even though you were outnumbered."

Anarath nodded weakly, head lurching forward as he tried to remain upright. Praise from Halbarad was high praise indeed but even talking seemed to take so much out of him.

"Anarath," Halbarad drove his mount beside his and held out a hand to steady him. "I know you are in pain but I beg you to hang on. Bree is less than a day's ride from here. Do you think you can manage?"

Anarath nodded again in the affirmative, though he was not at all sure how he would hold out before passing out.

Halbarad grabbed his reins and gently eased their mounts to a halt. "Hang on just a minute." He dismounted and began to rummage through his saddle bags until he produced a thick coil of rope. He wrapped it around Anarath's waist and around Anarath's horse several times.

"This is so you don't fall out of the saddle," Halbarad said in response to Anarath's questioning look. "There, now you can sleep if you can. Your horse will know the way back to Bree. And now for your back, let me see to those wounds." As Halbarad treated the gashes on his back, he spoke quickly to outline what he had in mind.

"I need to go back and see who else I can find Anarath. Now that the ford lost, the Nazgul won't be sticking around, which will give me a chance to go back. I need to see if there are still those who can be saved."

Anarath made to protest but Halbarad quickly cut him off, "No, you need rest Anarath. These wounds may fester and you could very well die. I've done what I can for now, but if you're barely conscious and you need to make sure fever doesn't take you. Go to Bree and rest. I'll send word when I can, but you focus on getting better."

Anarath sighed and slumped in the saddle in defeat. Halbarad was right. He was just hold him back and Halbarad would need to be fast and stealthy to gather their wounded and regroup.

"Alright. But the minute I'm on my feet, I'm coming out to find you Halbarad, whether you like it or not." Halbarad smiled grimly and rapped Anarath's horse onwards.

"We're going to need you Anarath. Now go. Be careful." And with the last sight of his captain wheeling his horse around, Anarath slumped forward and allowed the steady gallop of his horse rock him to sleep.

* * *

A single candle could be seen in the window of a tiny house in Bree. It was late, well past midnight, but Tessa didn't feel the least bit tired. All that week in fact, she had stayed up late into the night, worrying over her Ranger. _Her_ Ranger. Tessa smiled a bit at that. The phrase had a very pleasant ring to it. Five days had gone by since Anarath had left and she had heard no word from him, nor any of the Rangers for that matter. She had even gone down to the West-gate to inquire if any had gone by but none of the guards had seen any sign.

It was heart-wrenching to just sit idly by waiting for any news. Her sleep, whenever she could find the time to, was uneasy. Aside from her work at the _Prancing Pony_ , Tessa wasn't able to concentrate on much these past days, anxiously trying to preoccupy herself with the household chores but finding her mind wandering to Anarath so much that she gave up trying NOT to worry. She found herself staring out the window constantly, looking up with a hopeful expression every time she heard a horse gallop by only to be disappointed.

She sought the solitude of her cottage more and more as Bree began to prepare for its annual Harvest Festival. The festive mood of all the villagers unsettled her as she thought bitterly at just how the Bree-landers viewed the Rangers. Here they were, merrily ignorant of the danger so close to their home whilst the people that they taunted and spat on worked tirelessly to keep them safe. They protected them without any expectation of thanks and Tessa couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time since having met Anarath, how unjust the world was.

She sighed and turned back to look out of the window. The world was the way it was and that was that. Tessa smiled slightly to herself as she realized that that was probably what Anarath would say if he were here.

" _We keep ourselves a secret so that these simple folk can go on with their lives."_ That's how he had put it. It's what the Rangers have been doing for over a thousand years, dedicating their lives to the cause. Yet, Tessa still couldn't help but feel a rush of joy to know that Anarath had found a special place for her.

She gave another long sigh and unfurled the curtains over the small window. The hour was extremely late and she had duties at the _Pony_ in the morning. Her exhaustion was showing at work, though she was grateful Barliman seemed to sense the reason for her anxiety and had at least been understanding of her performance. If anything, the Bree-landers were truly good-natured folk, whatever their prejudices were towards those they didn't know. She made to blow out the candle when she suddenly froze at the sound of faint hoofbeats. " _Could it be?"_ She hurriedly brushed back her curtains and stared in wonder and then joy as she saw a familiar figure on a horse outside her small yard. Tessa ran for the door and wretched it open as she rushed out into the night. Yet, her joy soon died as she stopped in her tracks and then screamed as the figure tumbled out of the mount and onto the ground.

"Anarath!" Tessa bolted down the steps and knelt by the fallen figure.

Anarath looked up through half-closed eyelids at the one person that he had been thinking of nonstop ever since he left Bree. A beautiful woman whose mere presence seemed to make his pain go away. He raised one hand and gently touched her cheek, a smile slowly making its way across his face.

"Tessa…" Tears sprang into those wonderful blue eyes as she smiled and gently cupped his face with both her hands.

He was barely conscious and could feel the fever running through him. His entire body ached in pain and there were scars from the Nazgul that cut much deeper than any physical wound. He had managed once again to arrive on her doorstep battered, bruised, and on death's door. And yet, somehow, Anarath couldn't help but think, as he wrapped his arm around Tessa, pulling her close and burying his nose into her hair that always smelled of wonderfully intoxicating lavender, that there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Please review if you can and let me know how it is. Many thanks!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings nor any of its characters.

 **IV : An Hour of Wolves**

Barliman Butterbur is a busy man. Anyone who passed through the _Prancing Pony_ will tell you that. Anyone who had ever met the innkeeper even will tell you that Barliman was all over the place, serving drinks, brewing his renowned ale, and always running his mouth. His memory may be poor but he was an honorable person who always kept his promises, when he could remember them that is. One of the many values that Barliman stuck to was punctuality. Either in serving food or making a delivery, he made sure that it was never late. _"No one will ever complain of you being early, but they will never forget if you were late,"_ as he liked to tell his employees at the _Pony._

Autumn was well on its way in Bree-land as the month of September drew to a close. And it was at the end of another busy day, as Tessa was wiping down the last of the tables, when Barliman approached her.

"Tessa. A huge order came in today from Buckland and I'm need someone to handle it. Nob came down with a bit of the chills yesterday and I'm going to need Bob in the lumber room tomorrow. But I think I can spare you so I wanted to ask if you wouldn't mind making the trip."

Tessa put down the cleaning rag she had been using and wiped the brow of her head with the back of her hand. A delivery to Buckland! All of the errands that took place between the _Pony_ and various clients in the Shire were handled by either the hobbits Nob or Bob, who knew the paths well and took the trips as an opportunity to visit relatives residing in the Halfling homeland. Yet, she had never even gone so much as a few miles beyond Bree's walls so the aspect of a journey filled her with excitement and she couldn't stop a wide grin from breaking across her face to which Barliman gave a small smile.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes then. Now a few things to keep in mind, we at the _Pony_ put a great deal in…" Barliman drawled on but Tessa was too excited to listen as she started planning her trip in her mind. The road to Buckland would take a full day at least so she would have to stay at an inn somewhere in the Shire, which itself should been an interesting experience.

"…so remember that," Barliman paused his ramble and then, in a much more serious voice, looked Tessa in the eye and continued, "you're also going to need to watch out for yourself. There's strange men on the roads these days, some even causing trouble in the Shire. And people have been talking about wolves too, howling in the Old Forest and in the hills on the other side of the Road. I hate to send you off alone and as I said, normally I'd get Nob or Bob to do it but I can't spare them right now." His eyes looked uneasy and regretful and for a small moment, Tessa felt a bit of warmth in her heart at Barliman's concern for her.

"No need to worry, I'm sure it'll be fine," Tessa grinned, still giddy with excitement and unfazed by Barliman's words. "Buckland's only a day's ride from here and I'm sure if I follow the Road I'll be get there by nightfall tomorrow." To her slight surprise, Barliman continued to look uneasy, which was rare for the innkeeper's usually jolly and upbeat manner.

Tessa placed a hand on his arm and said in a much more serious tone, "Really Mr. Butterbur, I appreciate your concern but I think I'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it. And indulge me on this chance to see some of the big wide world."

The innkeeper chuckled and said good-humoredly, "The world already seems big enough here to me, but I guess it's different for you young'uns." He let out a sigh and continued with a wry smile, "I guess it can't be helped. But even so, I'll ask around and see if any adventurous soul would be willing to go with you. I'm going to need you to head out at the crack of dawn tomorrow so why don't you head on home and I'll finish up here. I'll have the wagon and ponies all saddled so come around when you wake up."

Tessa smiled with relief and picked up the rag again, "I'm almost done here so there's no need to trouble yourself. I'll just finish up and then get going. Thank you for everything Barliman."

Barliman waved away her thanks and turned to go back to the kitchens before he said, in almost an afterthought, "Maybe you could ask your Ranger friend if he'll accompany you. If he's willing, that'll save me the trouble of asking around." And as he left the room, Tessa was sure she caught the hints of a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Taking a trip to Buckland with Anarath did seem very inviting indeed, but there was just one problem. Anarath wasn't in Bree. He had left almost a week prior to find Halbarad. She had protested at the time as it had only been a few days since he came back to her all battered from Sarn Ford. Yet, he had insisted on going back out to find his other companions and there was little she could do to stop him. Still, she didn't want to tell Barliman all that. If she couldn't go with Anarath, she really didn't want to go with anyone else. Yet, on second thought, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to go out after all. The attack on Sarn Ford was still fresh on her mind and she knew from Anarath that there was still plenty of danger to be had outside the comfortable confines of Bree-town. Of course, the Bree-landers remained in blissful ignorance of the Rangers' plight at Sarn Ford and though they were aware of the increasing number of ruffians passing through their town, it didn't really change the pace of their everyday lives. Hence why Barliman had given her the errand.

Caution counseled that she ask Barliman to wait for another time for her to head out, perhaps when Anarath returned, or at the worst ask someone more capable to do it. But she had no idea when that may be and the eagerness to see the lands beyond Bree-town overpowered the last vestiges of caution. It'll only be a few days, she reasoned. She would take her dagger and small hunting bow with her. She was a lame shot and the small arrows she had were more suited for game than for any person. But it made her feel slightly more secure and, with the wanderlust giving her an extra jump in her step, Tessa grabbed her cloak and hurried out the _Pony_ into the cold night.

* * *

 _*Howl*_

The chilling howls filled the night air. The wind blew furiously and the clouds covered even the pale moon. Tessa grasped her cloak tightly around her and she give the reins a tiny flick, willing her two ponies on a little faster. They had been travelling nonstop throughout the day since dawn, aside from two brief rests. Tessa was sure that the ponies must be tired from pulling the wagon all day but there was something in the air that made her uneasy. The howling of wolves had seemed so faint at sunset but at grown progressively louder as the night sky darkened.

The Old Forest loomed menacingly to her south. She had heard all the stories of course. How the forest was haunted and how no one who went in ever came out again. No doubt a lot of those tales were exaggerated but now that she was passing by them, she wasn't so sure anymore. Even the Barrow-downs earlier this afternoon hadn't seemed so bad, though of course at that time, the sun had been shining brightly high in the sky.

The trip had been uneventful. Aside from a few travelers, Tessa hadn't encountered any danger. But despite that, Tessa had felt so overwhelmingly happy and content. Her first journey outside the confines of the four villages of Bree and she was loving every second of it. The Southern Bree-Fields stretched out on one side of the Road and the trees of the Old Forest dotted the landscape on the other. While it was nothing special to a well-seasoned traveler, Tessa cherished every moment of her trip. If only Anarath were here, she thought wistfully, then this would be perfect.

However, the excitement that she had felt when she rode through the West-gate of Bree that morning had slowly ebbed away as night fell, replaced by a gnawing feeling of anxiety. It had seemed to Tessa that the very air changed, a heavy shadow and fog filling the atmosphere now that the sun had retired. Now, she just wanted to reach the safety of Buckland, but she had no idea how far away that would be. The Road seemed endless and the night further hampered her ability to see the path ahead of her. Perhaps she would have to spend the night out here.

 _*Howl*_

The thought had barely crossed her mind when cry of wolves filled the night air once more, again seeming a lot closer than before. They emanated from the trees of the Old Forest directly to her south and Tessa couldn't help but feel like a sitting duck waiting to be attacked. The ponies whinnied frantically and she desperately tried to calm them down, stroking their muzzles and singingly soothingly to them. The howls ended and when the horses had finally settled down, Tessa flicked the reins again and continued onwards. They went for another mile and the young woman was just about to let out a sigh of relief that the danger had seemingly passed when another howl ripped through the night. But now she knew that the wolves were near. She could hear the growls and snarls and saw dark shadows racing along the trees of the forest. The horses bolted. The reins Tessa was holding was ripped out of her grasp and she staggered forward from her seat on the wagon by the force. The wagon lurched wildly as the constraints the horses were under snapped and they bolted in terror. Tessa scrambled up her seat and crouched into the covered wagon, looking desperately for her dagger and bow. She grabbed her weapons and crouched down inside, hesitantly peering outside. She saw the faint shadows of several wolves as they raced after the fleeing ponies. She grasped the hilt of her dagger tight and held her breath, heart pounding in terror as she silently waited. She had no idea what she was going to do. If there were wolves still there, she was essentially trapped inside surrounded. Without the ponies, the wagon was useless and provided nothing more than a façade of safety for her to hide in, the fact painfully obvious that this is not going to save her.

Moments passed in silence. Every instinct in her mind told her to take the opportunity now to run, to escape the wagon and try to make it to Buckland. She had been travelling all day so the gates had to be close. They just _had_ to be. It was her only hope. Running might attract the wolves but it was better than sitting here waiting for death. She took a deep breath and gathered her wits about her. She was just about to make a run for it when the canvas that made up the covering of the wagon ripped. Tessa looked on in absolute terror as a monstrous wolf tore right through the wagon. She screamed in fright and scrambled to get away. The ripped canvas had covered the wolf's head and it pawed at it in a frenzy. This is my chance, Tessa thought. She struggled up on her feet and bolted down the Road in fright. Howling filled the night once more. Tessa risked a glance backwards and screamed again as two other wolves had appeared, bounding along the path after her, gaining ground with each passing second.

What can I do, she thought frantically. She still had her bow and dagger but it was impossible to overpower them with just that. Even if she had something better, she wouldn't know how to use it. She unslung her small hunting bow and threw that along with her arrows behind her, catching one of the wolves and it fell to the ground with a thud. Well that's one down, one very temporarily down. She glanced back once more and saw the other wolf take a mighty leap at her. The world seemed to slow down around her. Acting purely out of instinct, Tessa reached for her dagger, twisted backwards, and threw the weapon at her attacker. The knife spun gracefully through the air and caught the wolf squarely in the exposed part of its belly. It cried out in pain and Tessa had to dive out of the way as it crashed with a thud onto the ground. Breathing heavily and staring in disbelief at her feat, Tessa scrambled onto her feet, her whole body shaking with fright as she stared at the mass in front of her writhing in pain. Renewed howling in the distance shook her out of her daze and she ran down the path once more.

She felt so horribly exposed out on the road and knew that the other wolves, especially the monstrous one, would catch up with her in no time. But there was no shelter at all in the plains and heading into the trees would just make it worse. They would be able to catch her scent and who knew what other danger lurked in the shadows. Time was running out but there was nothing she could do, nothing she had left. The ponies were gone. The wagon had been abandoned and her only weapons were now lost. She felt her pockets, desperately trying to find something, _anything_ , to help her. She felt her hand touch a small piece of metal and she pulled it out. It was the flint stones she had used when she made lunch earlier that day. And all of a sudden, an idea started to form in her head. It wasn't much of a plan and it most likely wouldn't do more than prolong the inevitable. But if she kept on running down the Road, she was dead anyways.

With a sudden rush of renewed determination, Tessa veered off the Road and into the woods. When confronted with such dangers in the Wild, fire was your greatest friend. It was something that she had picked up from Anarath. It was a double-edged sword to be sure. Fire in the dead of night would attract just about every possible being that was out there. But it would also keep them at bay, even if for only a while. She slowed down to a stop and tried to catch her breath. She had temporarily lost her pursuers but they would be here soon. Very soon. She crouched onto the ground, eyes surveying the shrubbery around her, looking for moss and wood, anything that could fuel a fire. She gathered an armful and placed them at the foot of a massive oak tree. The snarling was getting louder as she took the flint stones and frantically tried to get a spark. On her third attempt, she succeeded and watched as the flames grew, hungrily catching along the dead moss she had gathered. Tessa grabbed a long stick and held it again the fire, igniting the end. Now she had something to work with at least.

A growl sounded around her and she whirled around. It was the monster. With the light of the flames, Tessa saw the body of a huge wolf emerge from the shadow of the trees, snarling menacingly at her. Its eyes were bloodshot and its teeth looked like mini daggers protruding from its mouth. This was no mere wolf. This was a warg, wolves bred and manipulated by the dark powers into monstrous sizes. Anarath had told her of the several encounters the Rangers have had with wargs. In the wild facing a warg alone, very few survived such a trial. The warg lifted its head up to the sky and let out another long, drawn-out howl. One by one, more figures appeared out of the trees, the wolves fanning out as it circled the fire. Tessa gulped and swung the blazing sick in front of her, sweeping it in large arcs, dissuading the wolves from coming any closer, all the while keeping one eye trained on the warg. It was the pack leader. Of that she was certain. It dwarfed all the other wolves around it.

I should have climbed up the tree, Tessa thought dejectedly. But there hadn't been time and the lowest branch was well above her head. How am I ever going to get out of this one? She had been so stupid. She wasn't cut out to be an adventurer and now she was paying the price. She looked at the demonic eyes of the warg and swore she saw a smug, feral glint of satisfaction in them. She was well and truly cornered. She thought of Anarath and almost gave in to her despair.

I'm going to die out here in the wild and he'll never know what happened to me. The thought brought a small tear to her eye.

She saw the warg growl and crouch onto the ground, readying itself for the leap that would finally kill its prey when she heard the sound of hooves. An arrow whished through the air and slammed into one of the wolves. Another caught in the thick fur that covered the warg's back. It fell to the ground snarling in pain. A horseman appeared and with a flurry of arrows that Tessa barely saw caught several more of the wolves. The figure jumped off the horse and gave his mount a sharp slap in the rump, speeding its way out of danger. The hood fell back and Tessa stared in disbelief and unbridled joy at her rescuer. It was Anarath!

Anarath's eyes widened in shock when he saw her figure backed up against the trunk of the oak tree.

"Tessa! What are you…how did..." His sputtering stopped as he whirled around as the warg howled once more, getting up onto its feet. All the other wolves had fled and now it was just the three of them. Anarath drew his sword and placed himself between Tessa and the warg.

"Tessa, stay back and keep that stick with you. I'm going to keep it distracted and when you see a chance, I want you to get to the Road and run as fast as you can. The Buckland gates are less than a quarter-mile away. Do you understand me?"

"But I can't leave you…" Tessa started to protest but Anarath cut her off.

"Do you UNDERSTAND?" His voice was sharp and Tessa could only nod. The Ranger and the warg stared at each other, waiting in anticipation for one to make the first move. Tessa grasped the stick tightly in her hands as her heart twisted in agony. He was going to die for her. As he had said before, almost no one survived a one-on-one fight with a warg.

Without warning, the warg charged at the Ranger, who stood his ground waiting for the right moment. As the warg neared and prepared for the leap that would claw the Ranger's head off, Anarath suddenly crouched low and plunged the sword into the exposed part of the beast's belly. The warg snarled in pain as Anarath was knocked back by the force of the jump. The two fell to the ground, Anarath crying out in pain as he raised his arms to block the warg's claws reaching for his face. He felt its teeth sink through the sleeves of his cloak and bury itself into armguards that he wore. Anarath kicked out desperately, struggling to get out from under the weight of beast but in vain.

"Tessa!" he screamed out, "get out of here. Run!"

Tessa watched on in horror as she saw the two struggling. Anarath was going to die. He had told her to run, to save herself, but Tessa had known deep down that she wouldn't. She couldn't. Anarath was the closest friend she had ever had. He was the one that made her life truly happy. He was the one that made her life worth living. She grasped her stick tightly and ran forward with a yell at the struggling pair. Driving the stick as a spear, she rammed the flaming end as hard as she could straight into the side of the warg. The flames caught onto its fur and it howled in pain. The clawing became weaker and Anarath, with one last effort, scrambled out away from the warg's reach. He grabbed Tessa by the hand and together, they ran back to safety. With one last, almost sorrowful howl, the warg pawed at the ground and then went still.

Breathing heavily, the pair slumped to the ground in exhaustion, Anarath pulling Tessa onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around her. Her shoulders shook and she was soon sobbing in both relief and fright, speaking incoherently about how stupid she was and how it was all her fault.

Anarath said nothing but continued to hold her tightly, promising himself to never let go again. When she finally calmed down, she raised her tear-stricken face at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, placing little kisses on his neck and face.

He reached over and gently cupped her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. He knew that after such a near-death experience it was common to go into shock. Tessa nodded her head frantically and squeezed him again, tears again pouring down her cheeks.

"You...you saved me. I thought you were going to die," she stammered. "I thought I was going to die and never see you again. I should never have come…"

"Hey," Anarath cut her off gently, "Everything will be alright. It's not your fault. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead by now. You saved me." He stroked her hair and gently traced circles along her back until her shaking had stopped and she settled down.

When she finally raised her head again, she looked at him with glimmering eyes. She was so beautiful, Anarath thought.

His voice caught as he thought about just how close he had come to losing her. If I had come a moment too late or not had heard the cries at all.

"I almost died right then and there when I saw it was you," he whispered to her. "I don't know how I could have gone on if you had died." They clutched at one another, not daring to let go lest they lose each other once more. "I felt the same way," Tessa raised her eyes once more to look into his, so full of warmth and caring. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too. So much," Anarath cupped her face once more. "Please don't ever do that to me again." Tessa felt her insides expand in happiness as she leaned in forward and kissed him.

* * *

A gentle rap on the wooden gate alerted Sully Brandybuck, the Stable-master of Buckland and that week's night watchmen. It was almost nearly midnight. Who could be calling at this hour? He grabbed hold of his club and went out from his little guardhouse to the gate, pulling back the little window flap so he could peer out.

"Who goes there?" He called out.

He suddenly saw the face of a young man, who crouched down and pulled back his hood, face streaked with dirt and grime.

"My name is Anarath and this is my wife from Bree. She is making a delivery from _The Prancing Pony_ and we wish to find shelter for the night."

Sully tried to peer further and caught a glimpse of a young woman and what looked like a battered wagon.

"Ah I see, come on in." He pushed the flap shut and hurried to open the gate for the pair to pull their wagon through.

"We'd been expecting you since this evening but when you didn't show, we thought Barliman might have gotten the date wrong again."

The young man gave a wry smile, "We were held up. Would you know if the inn is still open? We could really use a night out from the cold."

Sully nodded as he saw how exhausted they were. "Of course, I'll come along with you to meet the innkeeper. We'll find room for you don't worry."

The ponies that Tessa had left with were nowhere to be found. When they had gone back to what remained of Tessa's wagon, Anarath tied his horse on it to pull along.

After Sully woke up the innkeeper and together they settled the wearied pair into one of the larger rooms of the inn, specifically used for non-hobbit customers.

Tessa had felt a small thrill when Anarath had referred to her as his wife. She knew he did it so it was simpler to explain, but it still made her happy to be seen that way, even if it weren't true. Rangers weren't particularly well-regarded in most of Bree-land and the Shire, while not subject to the same prejudice as the Bree-landers, had been experiencing too many brigands and ruffians to NOT regard a Ranger with suspicion.

It just seemed so natural with Anarath by her side, Tessa thought wistfully. The small room only had one bed and Anarath was more than willing to take the floor when Tessa grabbed him gently by the hand.

"Stay with me?" she asked, eyes hopeful and pleading. Anarath smiled and as he laid down, he reached over and wrapped his arms around the young woman, who quickly snuggled up beside him.

"Guess we'll have to be husband and wife for a while eh?" she grinned at him. He just smiled back, a bit sheepishly.

"It was just easier that way, I'm sorry if that surprised you."

She just grinned again and gently kissed him on the lips. "Not at all," she whispered. _Though maybe someday soon_ , she thought contentedly. _That would be nice_.


End file.
